


Sleepless in Sherwood

by HisWarrior



Category: Robin Hood (Traditional), Robin Hood - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Robin Hood References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23297836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisWarrior/pseuds/HisWarrior
Summary: Robin of the Hood. Hero, vigilante, breaker of chains, savior of the oppressed. But only his best friend sees the battle Robin fights every night. What do you do with an enemy you can't see?
Kudos: 13





	Sleepless in Sherwood

John knew that there had to be a higher power out there. Somewhere. Someone that could make sense of the mess he was in. Some designer that knew where his path lay. Someone who could possibly care about the war he was fighting; about the hell his people were going through. His gaze fixed to stars above, shining brightly above him in a blanket of darkness. Pinpoints of heaven shining, unable to be contained.

Hearing a shuffle, John leapt onto tired feet and looked around their meager campsite. Seeing nothing but the shadows and his still sleeping companion, John sat back down for his watch. 

Crescent moon hung low in the sky, gathering clouds in its wake. A cricket chirped soothingly, it’s music mixed with the gentle hum of a summer breeze. 

But the evenings peace was but an illusion: this John was sure of. It held no true comfort for the weary souls that hung within the canopies of Sherwood forest. 

He squirmed in his seat, a lump in the log driving an uncomfortable knot into his skin. But he dared not move from where he sat, for his companion was restless in his sleep and easily woken. 

But it was no secret that the younger man was always restless when in his dreams. Murmuring names of men long dead, Robin of the Hood turned again, face now towards John, the fire illuminating his face. His brow furrowed, and a thin sheen of sweat ran against his temples. 

John frowned, not wanting his younger friend to remain long in his nightmares, but neither wanting to disturb what little sleep Robin could get. 

It turned out that he needn’t have worried. Two cracks of the fire later, and Robin bolted straight from his sleep, a gasp of pain and a whispered name the only sounds that he made. 

Robin didn’t move, eyes still seeing a war that he had left months before. Eventually, his shoulders relaxed, and his gaze moved around the campsite. John had seen him do this before, reminding himself of where he was and what was going on. 

Finally, his gaze met that of John’s, and a silent conversation happened between the two. A small, comfortable smirk crept on Robin’s face. 

“You were supposed to wake me at half-light,” he said, his tone a slight scold. 

“Yes I was,” John replied, “but you were supposed to sleep last night and the night before.” 

The smirk slowly disappeared from Robin’s face. 

“You knew.” 

“I knew.” 

Robin turned to the fire, rubbing a hardened hand against his eyes. 

“Who was it this time?” John asked. 

But Robin was already shaking his head. 

“Not this time John. Don’t ask this time.” 

John remained silent, simply watching over his friend. Both sat in their thoughts, wonderings and worries for several moments when Robin shook his head and shuffled to sit up. 

“Alright John, my turn for….” 

“Back to bed with you Robin.” 

The shuffling stopped abruptly, and a terse quiet came over the campsite. 

“I can’t go back there.” 

“Robin, you’re dead on your feet. The men know something is wrong, and you are no good to them swaying like a woman ready to faint because you are more afraid of the demons you hide.” 

John knew his words were harsh, and he wished that it were another man saying them. But he could not, would not, allow the man he looked to as leader and friend continue this slow descent. 

“I am not hiding anything,” Robin growled, a fierceness in his tone that bespoke pain and loss. 

“Perhaps you are not trying to hide; nevertheless, you are. And those demons don’t disappear by any manner of your avoiding them.” 

“John, you don’t….” 

“Perhaps I don’t Robin. Perhaps I don’t know. But I do know other things.” 

At this John paused, waiting for Robin’s full attention. 

Robin turned to him, shadows under his eyes. 

“I know that your men love you, and would die for you at a moment’s notice. I know that you have seen the worst of mankind, and yet you decide to help the few that you can. And I know that you are stronger than the terrors of your own mind, and that you were brought back here for a greater purpose than you could ever imagine.” 

During his speech, he watched as his friend slowly relaxed. His shoulders sagged forward, and his eyes lost their burning fervor. 

“I’m so tired John,” he whispered. 

“I know you are,” John replied. For the first time that evening, he stood up from his seat. He crossed over to his friend, laying a hand on his shoulder. “That’s why you will sleep, while I keep watch.” 

“But John…” 

“Sleep.” 

Robin did not argue again, lying back down on his makeshift bed. Before John went back to his seat, he heard the deep breathing of his young friend, sleeping. 

So yes, John did believe in some higher. Because he had to believe that Robin did not face his demons on his own. 

And while Robin would battle those, John would watch over him. Waiting patiently for the morning to come. 


End file.
